Dad re-creates the Phillies’ 2008 World Series win for his son in their living room

My son attended his first Phillies game at six weeks old. Each April since, we’ve celebrated his birthday at Citizens Bank Park. Elliot and I love everything about those trips, from the taste of the hot dogs to the boundless optimism marking the start of a new season. It is his — and my — favorite tradition.

Elliot turns 10 this week and, despite the stress of homeschooling three kids, fretting over my grandmother’s health, and trying to keep a small business running, I am most anxious about disappointing my boy. He’s been looking forward to our annual pilgrimage since Christmas. Then, the week before his birthday, he tells me, “Dad, I know we can’t go to a game this year. It’s OK.” The look that follows is a punch to my gut. It is also the moment I decide, pandemic or not, that we are going.

Elliot’s brother and sister are ALL IN on my plan. In fairness, they are usually on “Team Dad” when it comes to ambitious, half-baked ideas. My wife, more discerning, pushes for details. But that’s OK. I’m used to plowing ahead with neither the details fully sorted nor her enthusiastic approval.

Game day arrives. My crew (ages 8 and 5) and I are busy prepping while Elliot waits, unaware of our plan, in his room. I holler for him to put on his Harper jersey and Phillies hat, adding to his confusion.

My perfectionist daughter has taken things to the next level, setting up a security check at the entrance to our living room and insisting I empty my pockets before examining our tickets. We settle into our seats and it’s a sell-out crowd. The furry guy next to me wears a baseball glove but no pants. It’s Game 5 of the 2008 World Series, the game that Elliot once told me he wished he could attend more than any other.

1st Inning: My 5-year-old starts whining relentlessly for ice cream in a helmet. We’re only on the second batter of the game. I give in. This is even more like the real thing than I thought it would be.

2nd Inning: It’s Dollar Dog Night! I pass money down the row, but when my hot dogs come back, one is missing a bite. I try to order a beer. The vendor, who looks underage, tells me she is going to need “more bucks.” I protest, but also, this seems fair.

3rd Inning: Here comes the Phanatic... in the middle of the inning?! He stops directly in front of the screen, prompting the older two kids to yell at the 5-year-old who is pushing the Batmobile doubling as the Phanatic’s four-wheeler.

5th Inning: I forgot how big Ryan Howard is and how raptly his every at-bat holds my attention. My wife looks up from her book to say wistfully, “Look at Cole Hamels. His hair flows in the wind.”

6th Inning: The Rays tie it, and my son angrily throws his popcorn. I’m both annoyed at the mess and proud of his passion. I realize that time has not softened my view that Joe Buck (calling the game) is rooting against the Phils.

7th Inning: Chase Utley fires home for a clutch out! I love Harper, Hoskins, and Nola, but Chase will always be “The Man.”

9th Inning: Brad Lidge throws strike three and we erupt with the glory of being world champions of baseball! It’s a pile on, both on the field and in my living room.

My kids crawl sleepily into bed and my wife smiles at our boy. I hug him tightly as he whispers, “I love you, Dad. That was the best game I’ve ever been to.” Me too, son.

Mike Wang shares a South Philadelphia row home with his wife and three opinionated kids, all of whom are devout Phillies fans. He’s a firm believer that great fans have long memories, sometimes boo, and always show up… and that roast pork is superior to cheesesteaks.